


Dragonsong

by ScarlettSiren



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Canon Era, Currently Orphaned, M/M, Minor Character Death, dragon!arthur
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-16 23:14:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1365292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarlettSiren/pseuds/ScarlettSiren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long ago, Camelot’s prince was placed under a terrible curse. When he came of age, he would become a dragon, and remain that way forever, should no one ever love him despite his form. Years later, Arturius the Great Dragon has been terrorizing Camelot for months. When gold, jewels and virgin sacrifices are no longer enough to appease him, the desperate kingdom calls upon the aid of the last Dragonlord.</p><p>**Currently on permanent hiatus, contact me (tumblr: thescarlettfangirl) if you are interested in continuing this work with the content I have in reserve (it's a lot).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been seeing all this Dragon!Cas Destiel on my dash, but then I got to thinking that Dragon!Arthur would probably be the coolest thing ever. I mean, Merlin is already a Dragonlord…you don’t even need to change canon much to make it work. I was slightly disappointed by the lack of fics of this (I think I found literally two). So, I decided to take a crack at it. It’ll be approximately a five-chapter semi-plotty pornfest most likely.
> 
> It’s set in the universe/timeframe of BBC Merlin, the only change is to the characters themselves (and only some of them) and a bit of the lore. It does have a bit of a Beauty and the Beast feel, admittedly, mixed with some elements from Sleeping Beauty if you squint. One big change to canon’s is a dragon’s need to eat. I’m assuming, as Kilgharrah was trapped under the castle for so long, that dragon’s don’t actually need to eat in the Merlin world, or can go a very long time without food even if they aren’t hibernating. That is different in this fic; dragons need to eat just like anything else. I just figured I should mention it since it’s an important plot point.
> 
> [On my tumblr, thescarlettfangirl, I track the tag 'fic: dragonsong' for this work]

King Üther was desperate. Nothing else would have caused him to stoop so low. At least, that's what he reassured himself as he pressed the Pendragon seal into the cooling wax on rolled parchment before handing it off to one of his knights with a grim frown.

A man with any conscience, or at least a sense of accountability, may have taken responsibility where it was due. But not Üther. He could only blame the sorceress responsible, only had hatred in his heart for magic because of it. He had turned his hatred outward, criminalizing all practice of the Old Religion and enforcing a strict death sentence by pyre to anyone found guilty of sorcery.

His hatred ran deep, decades-old wounds which had never healed, but instead had made him cruel and unforgiving. The only love left in his heart was for his ward, Morgana…but she had become distant in recent months. Even his only son, sole heir to the throne, was lost to him, now.

Over twenty years ago, on the eve of the spring harvest, Üther sent for the great sorceress, Nimueh. His wife was barren, but his love for her was too great to find another to bear his child. And so, he turned to magic.

Every spell has a cost, Nimueh had warned him. But still, he demanded a solution. Her magic guaranteed him a son, but at a great price. His wife did not survive the childbirth, and a part of Üther died with her that day.

Enraged and aggrieved, not in his right mind, Üther turned his grief into anger, directing it upon Nimueh. He banished her, claiming that she had tricked him, that she never warned him of the consequences.

Nimueh laughed in the face of his pettiness, calling on the powers of old to teach him a lesson not soon forgotten. Upon the child she placed a curse: when he reached the age of maturity, he would take the form of a dragon. A symbol which so proudly adorned the royal family crest would become their bane.

Üther could do nothing before the sorceress escaped, her shrill cackles echoing through the castle.

The king called upon every sorcerer he could find to cure his son, bringing them to the castle under penalty of death. When they could not save his son, he had them sent to the pyre, one by one. The Great Purge lasted a year, during which not only sorcerers, but creatures of magic…even dragons, were put to death without cause.

Those with magic began fleeing Üther's lands, taking refuge with the Druids beyond his borders. Each day, the king grew more and more embittered, and each day, the reddened scales upon the infant Arthur's flesh spread.

Despite his scales, which became littered in patches across his body as he grew older, Arthur was a seemingly normal child. Though he was kept hidden away, only allowed contact with a few servants and his caretakers, he was a kind and playful prince who enjoyed most the days when he was allowed to play out in the sun. But as he grew older and the scales spread, fewer and fewer of the castle staff were allowed in his presence, and he was not permitted to go beyond the walls.

As he came of age, Arthur’s head grew a crown of horns, twisted and spiked and golden. He cried for days in the comfort of his nanny’s arms, his own father having walked away from him with a disgusted scoff the moment he saw them. As the weeks passed, Arthur’s scales spread further and faster than ever, the ones along his abdomen smoothing and shining like gold. His fingernails became claws, his teeth sharpened and tongue forked overnight, and on the morning before his sixteenth birthday, he awoke with a tail.

The next day, when he blinked his eyes open, they were slit like a serpent’s, and nothing left his lips but a feral roar. Though his transformation had always been gradual, it had suddenly felt as if someone had poured molten lava over his flesh as it melted off into scales. Every part of him burned, and he flailed and thrashed and threw himself against the stone walls of his room until the sun set. Üther locked his son away in his quarters, and called upon the only one who could possibly help.

During the Great Purge, all those with magic, and those who refused to openly reject the Old Religion, had been labeled as criminals. Practicing magic of any kind, whether to help or to hurt, would earn them the pyre. Such people had been the Dragonlords, the only ones who were known to be able to control and tame a dragon. Üther had used the Dragonlords to wipe out the dragon species, then turned on them and had them slaughtered. Whispers spread through the kingdoms that there was only one such man left in Albion.

But the Dragonlord could not help the young Arthur. Trapped between human form and that of a beast, he could not be tamed until he crossed over into a fully-realized dragon. They did the only thing that they could; brought Arthur down into the caves deep beneath the castle, to live away from those who would try to hurt him. Üther allowed the Dragonlord to go free, on the condition that he did not live in Camelot, and that, if Üther called upon him again, he would come.

Arthur calmed as the years went on, his form growing until he was a fully-realized dragon. In his new form, he was almost docile, kindly leaning his head down for his caretaker to pet along the ridges of his nose. Her hands were not even the size of his eyes, and it took many days before she reached out to touch him.

Üther hadn’t come to his son for years. But at the news that he had finally pacified, he rushed down to the caves to see if anything of his son was left.

When the king arrived, he staggered back in horror in what he saw. Not a single trace of his son was left under that scaly hide, not a flicker of love in those serpentine eyes…and he turned his back on Arthur.

The dragon screamed.

It was a deafening, pained sound, released from his throat with a guttural blast of fire. In a fit of rage not seen from the dragon for years, he rampaged through the underground and broke away from his cage, flying into the light of the sun for the first time.

The knights of Camelot, unaware that it was their prince who had taken such a form, valiantly offered themselves to go after the beast. But for many weeks, the dragon did not return, and so Üther told them they should not ride out to their deaths for something which had done them no harm.

Then, the attacks started.

It began on the outer villages in the realm; livestock, mostly, with the occasional young villager being swept up, believed originally to have perished in the fires. But then, the loss of young men and women became more frequent, eventually occurring with each attack. Despite that livestock was also still being stolen, the villagers assumed they had only been taken for one purpose.

Every attack against the dragon failed, with countless knights being slain in their quest to vanquish it. Although Üther had wanted to spare his son’s life, hoping that some part of him still remained there, he could not let his kingdom be destroyed by that which he had created.

He went to his most trusted advisor, Gaius, knowing the reformed sorcerer would surely have _some_ information on dragons. He knew only what most did: dragons loved gold and jewels, dragons were often appeased by virgin sacrifices in the days of old, and only a Dragonlord could command and tame them.

Üther started with the first. He had only his most trusted knights go down into the vaults, unearthing treasures not seen for hundreds of years. Many of the items were believed to be cursed. Magic could not harm a dragon, so he gifted it to Arthur, as a peace offering.

And there was peace, for a time.

In the months of harsh winter, the dragon had slept, hibernating amongst his treasures. But after the thaw, the dragon had to eat, and the attacks began again.

Üther had lost many soldiers in the futile fight against the dragon. He turned instead to further bribery. A decree went out to all of Camelot, announcing the arrival of knights in each village, searching for the most worthy virgins to be given to the dragon as a sacrifice. Some brave few volunteered themselves in a display of devotion, hoping they would be the one to quell the dragon’s rage. Other were ripped from their homes with only tears and screams left in their wake. Many still quickly married, for fear that they would be chosen next.

Although the attacks had waned for an entire year, when they started up again, Üther felt he had no further recourse. He was forced to turn to that which he had cast away so long ago: he had to turn to magic.

This parchment, emblazoned with the seal of the king…he hoped it would hold the key to peace for his kingdom.

He knew better than to hope for peace within himself.

\- - -

Balinor was the last Dragonlord.

He had made a home for himself in Ealdor, a neutral village nestled between Camelot and the borders of Cenred's kingdom. Free of taxes and not regulated by Üther's ban on magic, most of the villagers did not fear the Old Religion. He lived there with his wife, Hunith, and their son, Merlin.

Word spread when the dragon's attacks ravaged Camelot, and on days when the winds were still, one could see the smoke plumes from the hills of Ealdor. Still, Balinor kept his secret, kept to his town and his family, until the day when Üther would cave and call upon him once more.

That day came nearly ten years after the last time Üther had begged for his aid. Balinor knew the instant he saw the knights riding into town, cloaks blazing red like fire, emblazoned with the golden symbol of the Pendragon crest.

The village council walked up the main road to meet them, blocking the path and fearing the worst. They had always suspected it would be Cenred who would attempt to claim their lands for his kingdom, not Üther.

"What business have you?" Asked one of the men, his voice stern.

The knight held up the scroll. "We come with a summons from the king, for the man they call Balinor."

\- - -

Balinor knew well not to trust Üther's word...but with two knights brandishing twin long-swords, one each for his wife and son, he knew he had no choice.

He tried to make an excuse, state that they only had one horse upon which to travel to the distant kingdom, but the knights merely bought him another from one of the elder farmers in Ealdor with Üther's gold. They advised him that the king had told them to bring them Balinor, and his family, 'at any cost'. The assertion did not sit well in his gut.

Balinor rode his own steed, with Hunith and Merlin on the one the knights had bought. His wife looked stricken with worry from behind Merlin, where her son could not see. Merlin himself took it well, regarding the knights with suspicion, all while trying to suppress his excitement for an adventure away from their humdrum life in Ealdor.

"Why does the king call for you, Father?" Merlin asked in a hushed tone as they sat by a dwindling fire. Night had come, but sleep, not so easily. His mother had only slipped into fitful rest from exhaustion and the knights took shifts, always leaving one awake to watch their charges.

In a quiet voice unheard by their watchers, Balinor confessed that which he had kept hidden from Merlin. He told him of the legacy of the Dragonlords, of the dragons themselves and their fate during and after the purge (although it was history, and widely known, few knew the true horrors as Balinor did). He regaled the time when he had been brought before the king under pain of death, of the curse on the king's son, of how there had been nothing he could do...and how it had only been because of his uses that Üther had allowed him to live, should he need him again.

"Is that why I have magic?" Merlin asked, revelation in his eyes as they sparkled in the firelight. "Because you are a Dragonlord?"

Balinor gave a sympathetic smile, shaking his head. "What you have is beyond Dragonlord magic. Far beyond...the likes of which even the Druids have never seen. Son, you are very special, just as your mother has always said...but it is not because of my gifts. Those will only come to you when my time has passed. Then, you will be the last Dragonlord."

Merlin slept, turning his father's words over in his mind and dreaming of a world where magic was accepted and dragons were free.

\- - -

When the sun speared across the horizon and broke through the tree line, the knights advised them it was time to continue traveling. They could do little more than walk the horses, a heavy blanket of fog obscuring where the trees were barest for a clear path to Camelot.

An hour after the sunrise, the fog had still not burned away, hanging thickly in the humid forest air as the travelers walked. The knights seemed more annoyed than worried, until a loud snap rang through the otherwise eerily silent woods, spooking the horses. A volley of crossbow bolts were suddenly raining down at them, Merlin just barely managing to divert the one headed for his father with a subtle use of magic. The Camelot knights didn't even have a moment to draw their swords before bandits descended on them from above, horses rearing in the commotion. Merlin's horse bucked, sending Hunith to the dirt hard, though he managed to hold on himself.

"Mum!" Merlin cried, turning his horse about quickly and putting it between his mother and their attackers as he jumped off to help her. She was out cold, a large gash bleeding on her temple.

He glanced over his shoulder to the commotion, where the knights were engaging with most of the bandits. His father had jumped from his horse and was running toward them, pulling a small dagger from his coat.

"Take your mother and go!"

Balinor dove for them, scooping Hunith up in his arms and getting her back onto her horse. He secured her into the saddle while Merlin kept another volley of arrows at bay with his magic. Once he located the shooters in the trees, another bit of magic had wrenched the weapons from their hands and smashed them against the tree trunks.

The bandits, surprised and obviously angry, jumped down from their perch to join the fight, brandishing short swords. Balinor was whispering something to the horse in an old language, petting along its mane. Merlin scrambled back as the attackers closed in. He was about to force them back with his magic when one of the knights caught one of them off-guard from behind. Despite a large gash in his shoulder, the man turned, enraged, and fought back against the knight. The second bandit didn't stop, rushing for Merlin. He clambered to his feet, hand outstretched as he started to incant.

Before he could finish, Balinor stepped between them and shoved his dagger into the man's chest, but not before he had managed to run the Dragonlord through with his long sword. He staggered back into Merlin's arms and the warlock screamed, a sudden burst of magic knocking the bandit back into a tree. He slumped to the roots and did not move again.

Merlin held his father as they both hit the dirt, clutching tightly to him as he tried to stem the bleeding. He muttered every healing spell he could think, but nothing was powerful enough to save him without herbs or medicine to aid it.

“No, no, no…father, please…” Merlin begged, incanting another spell to no avail.

"Son…son, listen to me...” Balinor took Merlin’s hand into his, clutching it tightly. “You...you are the last Dragonlord now. Do not trust Üther to let you keep your life. You are the only one who can control the dragon."

Merlin whimpered desperately, hands bloody where his father held to them. "But...how? I’ve never—"

"You must look deep within yourself, and find the voice you both share. When we speak to them as brothers, a dragon must obey." Balinor’s eyes fluttered as he forced out each word. “I believe in you, my son. The fate of Camelot rests…in your hands alone, now.”

"Father...father!" Merlin held to him as the man’s hands slipped from his grasp. He hugged him tightly, willing the life not to leave his body…but it was to no avail. He blinked away tears, looking up. The knights and bandits were no longer scuffling. Several of their attackers and one knight lay dead before him as he tried to stand, looking around for the others.

Merlin felt a sharp blow to the back of his head that sent him back to the dirt. He only managed to glimpse the horse galloping off with his mother in tow before everything went black.

\- - -

When Merlin awoke, he was in a prison.

At least, that was his assumption. The cold stone floors, hay bed and metal bars forming a cage around him were a good indication. An uneaten plate of bread and water sat in front of the door, stale and unappealing.

He had just enough time to sit up and rub at his aching head before the door atop the stairs opened. Several men were speaking in hushed voices, and he heard a snigger before the guards stepped aside.

Two knights entered the cells, different from the ones who had brought him here. They looped their arms under his own and dragged him out once the doors were opened for them.

“Wh-where are you taking me?” Merlin choked out, feet scrabbling on the stone for purchase.

“To see the king.” One of them intoned. “He is to decide your fate.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was done before chapter 1, which is why it’s all being posted at once.

When Merlin was brought into the throne room, the king was still deep in discussion with one of the knights who had escorted him to Camelot and apparently, his physician. The latter was looking over the knight’s wounds, but was shooed away when the king deemed they were nothing serious. They had caught the tail-end of the conversation; the knight was explaining that his partner had been killed by the bandits when the king cut him off.

“And the Dragonlord?”

“Dead, sire.” The knight coughed uncomfortably. “His wife, as well. The boy was the only one I could save.”

Merlin felt all of the blood drain from his face, his feet giving out from under him. It was only the grip of the knights on either side of him that kept him standing.

Üther did not seem as if he was handling the news much better. “And the boy? Does he command the dragons as his father did?”

“He is just a kid. I do not think he is capable of much of anything.” The knight spoke.

Üther turned to the doorway where the other knights stood, motioning with one hand. “Bring him forward.”

The knights did as they were commanded, dragging Merlin into the room and dropping him to his knees before the king. He stared at the stone floor, unblinking.

“Boy…it is true that your father was the last Dragonlord?” Üther asked, looking down at him critically.

Merlin nodded numbly.

“And do you possess this same power? Do you have the ability to control the dragons?” Üther pressed.

Merlin shook his head, hollow.

“I can spare your life, and overlook the magic you may possess to do so, but only if you can help me.” The king tried again, his tone desperate.

Merlin shook his head again.

Üther groaned, shaking his head as he began to pace, a thoughtful hand upon his chin. "Perhaps…what if we were to offer the boy as a sacrifice? Surely the son of the last Dragonlord would win the beast's favor for a time. Gaius?"

Gaius, the physician, frowned with a sigh as he stepped forward. “I do not know, sire. I cannot condone sacrificing a young boy based on mere speculation.”

“Camelot is in danger. I don’t require your permission or your approval.” Üther snapped, turning to look over the boy once more. He was still staring at the floor, not reacting to what was being said at all. “Take him to the mountain and mark him as the son of the last Dragonlord.”

“Sire.” The knights nodded in assent, dragging the boy up from his arms and pulling him out of the room. He didn’t react, as if there was no fight left in him.

Üther turned away, refusing to look upon the result of his own judgment.

\- - -

Merlin had always dreamed of adventure outside his tiny village.

He never expected it would come with him being tied up and toted on horseback up the side of a mountain as a sacrifice for a rampaging dragon.

Only days ago, he had learned of his father's lineage; the legacy of the Dragonlord passed down to him from father to son. But now, he was dead, as apparently was his mother, and Merlin had no idea who to turn to.

The journey took half a day. The knights left him bound to a tree at the base of the mountain, shirt open, where his bare chest was marked with ink, ‘Son of the Dragonlord’. But their effort had been in vain. Merlin waited some time to ensure they were out of sight before snapping the ropes with his magic. He rubbed at his wrists, frowning as he looked upon the steep incline of the mountain. The dragon didn't appear to have stirred, so he quickly made his way into the forest. He rubbed the ink away angrily, fixing his clothing once he had done so.

He did not know where to go, so he headed in a direction exactly opposite of Camelot. He could not return to Ealdor, so he decided to search the woods, hoping to come across one of those fabled Druid camps his father had told him of in his youth. Traveling villages of magic-users; they welcomed strangers with their gifts and stayed away from Üther’s wrath. He walked with purpose, now, hoping to find something of a home with these peaceful people.

Merlin, distracted as he thought, stopped dead suddenly, nearly stumbling as he came across a clearing. Only...it wasn't a clearing at all. The ground was dead, blackened remains of trees nothing more than sticks shoved into the dead grass. At first, he thought the area had been burned out by dragon fire, but when he stepped into the field, his foot sank almost to the ankle, black sludge oozing from in between the clumps of dry, dead grass.

Merlin made a rather undignified noise, scrambling to get back into the line of living trees. Only, the damage to the forest extended in both directions; well past where he could see on level ground, and all the way up into the mountainside. Along the cliffs, his eyes caught a thin trail of black smoke, curling up into the sky. He swore he caught a glimpse of a thatched rooftop tucked into an outcropping of rock. Throwing caution to the wind, he began to climb.

The more time he spent trudging through the ooze and twisted trees, the more he could feel the presence of something trying to overtake him. The smell of death hung heavy in the air, and he could feel his magic creating a defense against the evil trying to creep in. There was no doubt in his mind that this was the work of powerful sorcery.

Merlin was about to pause to catch his breath when he looked up and saw that there were, indeed, houses...more than one, nestled into an outcropping along the cliffs. The smoke was thicker from this close, and he broke into a run, feet digging into the black muck as he struggled for traction.

Several things happened at once, but this was how Merlin would remember it: the moment he came upon the main village road, the stench of death hit him so hard that he doubled over, tucking his nose and mouth into his sleeve to prevent himself from puking. He took in his surroundings through watery eyes; the houses were covered in black ooze, dripping as if it had burst from their very foundations. Behind wooden enclosures, the carcasses of pigs and cows had rotted away to nothing but bone, so ill that even flies did not wander near. And standing at the edge of the town, tucked against the side of the mountain, was a massive red dragon.

A thin trail of smoke addled from between his teeth as he worked, massive claws digging into the only clean dirt still left. There were multiple gouges upon the earth, piles of silt and rocks behind them. When the dragon finished the last, he made a small, whimpering sound and lifted the lifeless body of a woman gently in his teeth, setting her softly into the hole he'd made. With his claws, he covered each of the holes with the displaced dirt, huffing a pained sigh.

"You've dug them graves?" Merlin asked, his voice speaking out of its own accord.

The dragon turned to him, alert, and roared fiercely, wings spread and horns perked in a display of power.

"Oy, calm down." Merlin replied, stepping closer, cautiously. He thought he'd be terrified in the presence of such a creature, but he felt no fear. "They were the sacrifices sent to you by King Üther?"

The dragon's wings and horns dropped, a disdainful curl in his mouth as his teeth remained bared. He nodded.

"You didn't eat them." It wasn't a question. Merlin looked around again. He could see pens where animals were kept, far more than what was needed for a village this small. "They lived here...raising livestock for you."

The dragon cocked his head. "You are...rather observant."

His voice was light, despite the deep growl of it.

"You speak." Merlin blinked up at the creature.

"To those who would listen." He replied with a noncommittal shrug of his massive shoulders. "Why have you come here?"

"I was sent as a sacrifice, by Üther. I am the son of the last Dragonlord."

The confession hung in the air for several moments. Merlin wasn't sure why he decided to share the information...but he did not fear the dragon, not after what he'd seen.

"Why did he not send Balinor?" The dragon asked, as softly as a dragon could.

"You remember my father?" Merlin queried.

"He came to Camelot, in my youth. He could not help me."

"Well, maybe I can." Merlin replied, his steps sure now as he approached the graves. "Did you know their names?"

The dragon nodded, pointing to each in turn. "Vivian...Mithian...George...Mordred..."

Merlin waved his hand and muttered an incantation, the stones becoming proper gravestones with the names etched in.

"That is more than Dragonlord magic." The dragon blinked at him curiously, head dipping lower until he was level with Merlin. "When you did not try to subdue me, I assumed you had not received your father's gift. But you are something more..."

"There was nothing to subdue." Merlin said easily. "You didn't attack me, you were digging graves." A pause. "But you're not wrong. I'm a sorcerer."

"Surely King Üther did not know, or he would have sent you to the pyre rather than send you to me." The dragon said with disdain.

"Well I didn't tell him." Merlin snorted.

"A wise choice." The dragon tilted his head so his eyes bore into the warlock's, his second eyelid peeling back slowly after every blink. "So, then...if you know I'm not going to eat you, what are we going to do with you?"

Obviously leaving him here in this miasma of death wasn't going to work, nor could he be sent back to Üther. He could return to Ealdor, but to what end? He had no purpose there.

"I'd like to know why you're attacking the villages, if you had your supply here." Merlin said, though there was no accusation in his tone.

The dragon's head dipped lower, eyes dropping. "The animals were the first to die. The Black Death crept upon them, then the lands...then my people. They...they liked it here. I always gave them a choice: they could leave, and travel alone, but never return to their villages, since Üther would have them killed for escaping. But most of them chose to stay. They called me their king."

The dragon sounded genuinely distraught as he continued. "I had to retrieve more livestock. If I'd sent them to steal it, they could have been hanged. But when I returned, they had all succumb to the sickness."

"It's not just a plague. This is powerful magic." Merlin told him, crouching to run his hand just over the dirt of the graves. "Who could have—?"

"Nimueh." The dragon snarled, wings flaring as he dropped down on his haunches.

"The one who cursed you?" Merlin asked.

The dragon growled. "She's here. Come with me."

Without waiting for an answer, the dragon scooped him up gingerly in one claw and took to the skies.

Merlin cried out in protest, but his voice was drowned out by a sudden, guttural roar from the dragon, echoing back at them from the cliffs. He cut gracefully through the air, slithering up the side of the mountain until he had reached nearly to the top. Just below the peak, there was a massive cave inset in the stone, and the dragon slid inside, tucking his wings back.

He landed with a great thud, setting Merlin down. Around him, coins and jewels slid out of place in their piles, tinkling loudly in the cavern.

This was the dragon's hoard.

The treasures went on for what looked like miles, deep within the mountain. Gold and jewels, precious gems, rare artifacts...Merlin could feel the magic pulsing in the air, many of the objects either cursed or blessed.

Before he had a moment to take it all in, the dragon had picked him up again and set him behind a large dune of treasure, hissing at him to stay quiet and hidden before turning away.

“Dragon…” A lilting voice echoed, sing-song through the cavern. “Oh, dragon…”

A shadowed figure entered from the mouth of the cave, but Merlin could still see her from his hiding place. She was small and lithe, with pale skin and dark hair. Her blood-red dress was in tatters, and she had the bluest eyes Merlin had ever seen. Despite her demure appearance, he could feel the power emanating from her; an ancient magic, tangled with malice.

“Why have you come here, Nimueh?” The dragon growled, curling himself protectively in front of his treasures. It may have seemed like a selfish act, but it was done to protect not the contents of his home, but his home itself. It was all the dragon knew, now. All he had was in that cavern.

“Just to talk…” Nimueh told him, stepping lightly as she paced the entryway. Her fingers trailed over the stained wood of a large, ornate chair as she passed. “It is a shame, what happened to your little village.”

“It was a plague caused by sorcery. Do not feign ignorance.” The dragon snapped.

“How do you know it was me?” Nimueh said innocently. “Camelot wishes to see you dead. Perhaps they sent something to destroy you. Perhaps they knew not what kind of power they were trying to command.”

“That’s a lie.” The dragon seethed.

“Arturius the Great Dragon, that’s what they call you…” Nimueh drawled. “More terrible, even, than the dreaded Kilgharrah. Of course, he’s believed to be dead, but still, they call you _Üther’s bane_.”

“I have never attacked Camelot.” The dragon protested. “It is still my home. They are still my…family.”

“Even if you have not attacked them, you have come after the outlying villages. They fear you.” Nimueh replied. “They’ve sent for the last Dragonlord to kill you once and for all.”

“And what would you have me do? Burn Camelot to the ground? To what end?” The dragon argued. “I don’t desire power. I only wish to live, and to be free of this curse _you_ put upon me!”

“Arturius—”

“My name is Arthur!” The dragon snarled, loosing a burst of flame at the sorceress. She merely held up a hand and the fire split before her, spreading out on either side of her and out of the cavern.

“Arthur is dead!” Nimueh growled once the flames had ceased. “Üther speaks no more of his son. Those who ask of him learn quickly not to. You are nothing but a monster to him…and if he knew how to kill you, he would have done so!”

“You lie!” Arthur roared, his breath holding force, but no fire.

“Do I?” Nimueh laughed haughtily. “The cure to my curse was infantile. And yet, Üther could not overcome it.”

“The cure was cruel and impossible!” Arthur countered. “For one to love me despite my form? As if my father could have arranged such a marriage! As if any maiden in all of Albion could have loved a dragon!”

“Your father is a fool.” Nimueh spat. “Any love would suffice. The love of a mother, whom Üther willingly sacrificed to create you, only to change his mind once the deed was done!”

Merlin saw the look of pain on the dragon’s face, the flinch of his scales.

“The love of a father; one who could have looked past the curse and still claim his son the rightful king. That love would have been enough.” Nimueh told him venomously. “But your father did not love you. He hated you. He rued the day you were born to him, and stole away the love of his life. Join me, and we can have revenge against him.”

“Never!” Arthur screamed, fire blazing past his tongue and directly at Nimueh. She chanted something under her breath as her hands came up, motioning in a fluid arc before her. The flames bent themselves away from her and toward the dragon, catching him along his neck and shoulder. He roared in pain, scales singing under one of the few things which could harm him; his own fire.

“That’s enough!” Merlin shouted, bounding from behind the pile of treasures and standing between the dragon and Nimueh.

“And who is this?” The sorceress asked cruelly, eyes flicking up to the dragon. “I thought all of your little toys were broken. I suppose I must have missed one. _Forbærne_!”

A ball of fire shot forth from her hand, directly at the boy.

“ _Scildan_!” Merlin raised an arm and the fire split before him, just as Nimueh had done herself earlier. When the flames dissipated, the warlock pushed his right hand forward. “ _Ástríce_!”

Nimueh didn’t have much time to react as a burst of crackling gold lightning soared at her chest. She barely brought a hand up in time to disperse it, but it still sent her reeling back onto the rocky floor with a grunt of pain.

Merlin stepped closer as Nimueh scrambled to her feet, scurrying back toward the cave entrance.

“A sorcerer?” She balked, looking to the dragon, who was staring at Merlin fixedly.

“A Dragonlord.” Merlin boomed, fire crackling in his hands. “It is my sworn duty to protect the dragons, whether born of magic or not. Leave, now, and never return.”

“Son of Balinor…the last Dragonlord…” Nimueh all but whispered, stepping back further. She looked up at the dragon, whose eyes were now narrowed at her, teeth bared. “You will regret not allying yourself with me. Your father will not rest until you are dead.”

Before either of them could retaliate, the woman raised her arm, black smoke eddying up from her feet and swallowing her entire form. When it dissipated, the sorceress was gone.

Merlin lowered his hands, the fire leaving them. He turned to the dragon, assessing the damage to his scales. His neck and shoulder were burned, but he saw no blood. “Are you all right, Arthur?”

The dragon seemed taken aback by hearing his true name in such a kind tone, but nodded his massive head. “It will heal. That was very brave of you. Nimueh is a powerful sorceress. She will not rest until the Camelot is destroyed, at my hand.”

“I won’t let that happen.” Merlin assured him. “I am the last of the Dragonlords. It is my destiny to protect you.”

Arthur cocked his head. “The king sent you as a sacrifice to me. Now you believe you must protect me?”

“With his dying breath, my father told me it was up to me to save the dragons…to save you.” Merlin explained, looking up at him with determination. “And I will.”

\- - -

Merlin had settled with Arthur in the protection of his cave as they spoke of many things. They did not talk of the curse or the deaths of Merlin’s parents…instead, Arthur asked the warlock of his life in Ealdor. Arthur told him of the quiet days he spent watching over his charges; those who had been sent as sacrifices, who had instead lived with him in peace until Nimueh’s plague took them.

“So then…it’s been a while since you’ve eaten.” Merlin commented, looking at the dragon pointedly.

Arthur frowned as much as his features allowed. “I won’t eat you, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“I didn’t say that. But you have to be hungry.” Merlin replied.

“I’ve gone longer without.” Arthur dodged.

“I won’t sit here and let you starve.” Merlin climbed to his feet, dusting off his pants. “And anyway, I’m hungry, too. I’ll get us both something and be back by sundown.”

“It’s dangerous in the woods.” Arthur argued. “You shouldn’t go alone.”

“Well I can’t very well bring a dragon with me! You’ll scare away all the game. Here, I’ll take…this.” Merlin fished around in a nearby pile of artifacts before coming away with a spear in his hand. “Should be helpful against bandits and bunny rabbits alike.”

Arthur still didn’t seem pleased, head dropping as he made a pathetically pained sound. Merlin realized immediately what was wrong and reached out with his free hand, stroking the dragon’s snout. "Hey...I promise I'll be back, all right? I won’t leave you."

The dragon nodded, giving another small sound, this time of assent. Merlin took his hand away and stepped back, testing the spear in his grip.

“I will return before sundown. You have my word.” Merlin told him.

“Your word as a Dragonlord?” Arthur asked, a bit of teasing in his tone under the melancholy.

“And as a friend.” Merlin said like a promise, nodding resolutely. “I’ll see you soon.”

Arthur watched him go with more pain in his heart than he cared to admit. He had always taken to his sacrifices quickly; felt an utterly animalistic urge to protect and guard them, but this was different somehow. He could feel his connection to Merlin thrumming beneath his scales, and with every step taking him further away, he felt the familiar ache of loneliness settling in.

He snorted, a puff of smoke ebbing out of his nostrils. He was being dramatic. Merlin promised to return, and he would. But if the warlock intended to stay, he’d need a place of his own. Although Arthur enjoyed sleeping amongst the coins and jewels, he knew well that human skin did not appreciate their texture as a scaly dragon hide did. So, he set off into his cave to prepare a place for Merlin.

It took him some time to find what he needed. A massive tapestry, woven with the bloodlines of Camelot’s rulers in faded red and gold, was bunched up under a set of broken armor in the back-most corner of his cavern. He dragged the fabric out from its holdings, hoping the musty smell was not as obvious to a human’s nose as it was to his. Once it was free, he set off to find something softer. It took a bit of searching, but he eventually found a large collection of soft fur blankets and unfinished hides. He snatched them up and he flew off to the place where he would make Merlin a home.

The dragon returned to the spot he’d chosen, setting down as softly as he could. He used his snout to shove aside a mountain of coins and jewels, creating an alcove amongst the large dune of gold. He dragged the massive tapestry over the crater with his mouth, then set the furs clutched in his claws into the bottom. He fussed with them for a few moments, stepping back to survey his work. He huffed, a curl of smoke billowing out of his mouth. It just wasn't _good_ enough.

The dragon set off amongst his treasures again, nosing at the coins and jewels. He knew of every piece in his possession, and he had just the thing to finish the makeshift bed. It took some digging, but finally his snout came into contact with something soft, so he bit at it and tugged, sliding it out from under the pile. It was a bolt of silken fabric in brilliant Camelot red, the edges trimmed in Pendragon gold. His tail swished victoriously as he returned to his work, tossing his head to unwind the silk from the flat of wood it was bound upon. It took him a few moments to untangle and arrange it among the furs, but once he had, he knew he'd found what was missing and nodded his massive head once in satisfaction.

After his work was done, he set to pacing at the mouth of the cave, watching nervously as the sun began to sink. He found himself equal parts worried for Merlin’s safety and betrayed that he had left him despite his promise. But, just as the last of the light was bleeding from the sky, Merlin appeared from the edge of the forest, dragging a makeshift gurney of branches and cloth which held two dear and several rabbits.

“Sorry I’m a little late.” The warlock said as the entered the cave, Arthur taking his burden and pulling it the rest of the way in. “I spotted a second deer and thought, well, dragons probably have big appetites.”

“Thank you.” Arthur said, his tone heavy with meaning.

“Of course. So…do you think you could move that basin over here? I’ll make a fire for my rabbits. I suppose you eat yours raw.” Merlin replied.

“I do.” Arthur affirmed, going to one of his treasure piles and taking a large stone basin into his teeth. He set it before Merlin as the warlock began snapping the gurney apart and tossing the wood and fabric scraps inside.

Merlin waved a hand over the basin, muttering, “ _Bael onbryne_.” They sprang to life with fire, crackling in the quietness of the cave.

“Good. Well, help yourself to the deer, then. It will take me a while to skin these.” Merlin said, holding up the rabbits. He headed over to the treasures again to find a sharp knife. Only once he’d turned his back did Arthur take one of the deer into his mouth, tossing his head back and swallowing it whole. He had already gulped it down by the time the warlock had returned with a dagger. “Wow, you _were_ hungry.”

“As you say.” Arthur admitted sheepishly. He laid down to watch Merlin skin the rabbits. “We can lay those out for pelts in the morning.”

“All right.” Merlin smiled at him curiously as he worked. “You sure you don’t want that second deer?”

“When you are ready to eat.” Arthur told him, folding his wings over his back.

“Still have the manners of a prince, then, I see.” Merlin teased. It took him several minutes, but he had eventually skinned three rabbits and hung them on spits over the fire. He brought the skins nearer to the mouth of the cave, laying them out on the rocks for later use. He returned to the fire and rolled the meat on its spit, letting it cook evenly.

“You must have cooked a lot for your family, back home.” Arthur commented, still watching him.

“Yes, actually. My mother did all of the cooking, so I learned everything I could from her and helped when I could. Hunting and caring for blades and armor, that I learned from my father.” Merlin told him, his tone melancholy. “They would always tease me when I had to use magic to help. I wasn’t ever really good at anything else.”

“You seem to be doing fine.” Arthur noted.

“I flung the spear at the game with magic, lit the fire with magic…if there was a spell for cooking it all evenly I’d have done it already.” Merlin countered.

Arthur chuckled, smoke curling out of his mouth. “So what you’re saying is, you aren’t very good at anything except for magic.”

“Pretty much.” Merlin shrugged. “It’s always been a part of me. It’s the only thing that comes naturally.”

“If it makes you feel any better, being a friend seems to come naturally as well.” Arthur told him, teeth showing as he smirked. “Even if all of your meat burns.”

Merlin blinked, looking back to his rabbit to find it slightly blacker than it should be. He yelped a curse and pulled it from the fire, cursing again when it singed his hand. The dragon laughed like it was the most hilarious thing he’d ever seen.

“Yes, you’re clearly not a very good cook.” Arthur spoke between laughs, smoke puffing out of his nostrils.

“Yeah? Well you’re a giant, scaly prat.” Merlin countered, pulling at the meat in the hopes that it was somewhat salvageable.

“I am not! I have princely manners, so you said, and I am a brilliant host!” Arthur challenged, sitting up.

“Oh yes, your cave is utterly royal in its accommodations.” Merlin teased around a mouthful of rabbit. “I’m sure gold makes a lovely bed for us fleshy types as well, hm?”

“Eat your dinner and I’ll show you to your bed, you insufferable twit.” Arthur huffed amicably.

Once Merlin had finished his rabbit and had a drink from his water skin, he placed the rest with the skins to be made into jerky. While his back was turned, Arthur gobbled up the second deer in a single bite, swallowing it down before Merlin could see anything. When the warlock returned, he stood up and tossed his head smugly.

“This way.” He told him, padding over to the pile of coins where he had made Merlin his nest.

The sorcerer stared for a moment, blinking as he turned to the dragon. “You did this for me?”

“Well I can’t have you sleeping on gold, fleshy as you are.” Arthur teased.

Merlin smiled. “It’s perfect. Thank you, Arthur.”

Once he’d divested of his shoes, jacket and belt, he climbed into the pile of furs and made a rather pleased sound as he burrowed under the fabric. He had to admit, if only internally, that it was more comfortable than his bed at home. Arthur curled up around the nest, resting comfortably on the coins and jewels and letting one wing create a protective canopy over Merlin’s little alcove.

He found rest to the sound of the Dragonlord wishing him a good night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am writing this entirely out of order so no idea when the next chapter will be posted, but hopefully soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re here for the smut, congrats. The smut has arrived…it’s just buried under a bunch of banter and some bonding. I hope you realize I don't take it personally if you are just in it for the smut, seeing as I wrote the plotty bits purely to support this filthy dragon smut. So, enjoy!

When Merlin awoke, it was not to the sound of a rooster's call, as in his life in Ealdor, where the neighbor's chickens woke early and assured the entire village did, too. Nor was it to the sun spearing at him from behind the horizon as it rose on the days when his father had taken him into the forest to hunt, letting nature decide their schedule.

No, it was not these things which woke Merlin. It was instead a rather significant weight colliding with his chest, knocking the wind out of him and startling him into consciousness. He flailed in his tangle of fabric and furs, taking a moment to remember where he was, and why. A deep sadness settled in his gut when he recalled the events of the days prior, but he felt a little comfort in knowing he still had a purpose to serve; a destiny. The coins beneath the tapestry shifted and slid with new weight, and Merlin looked up.

"Arthur?" The dragon, who had been asleep curled up above his bed just hours before, was now nowhere to be seen...which was quite concerning, given his size.

"Down here." Came a muffled voice from the furs. Merlin watched in awe as they were tossed aside, pushed away with the opening of a strong, ruby-red wing. The figure they belonged to sat up amongst the fabric, blinking in apparent confusion.

Merlin could only stare.

The figure was nearly human, with a strong, lean torso. Flesh met golden scales just below his navel before disappearing under the fabrics. A messy head of blond hair was framed by a crown of gold horns, though the scales trailing from his hairline, down his temples and over his neck were a deep red. They trailed in patches down his back, past those large wings and to the base of his spine, where out jutted a strong and muscular tail, twitching nervously as it coiled above the furs. The red scales on his neck covered his shoulders and flowed down his arms in patches, more thickly layered along the backs of his arms, but thickest at his wrist, where his claws were more dragon-like than human; gold talons taking the place of fingernails. His eyes, so intently on Merlin, were the same clear blue he had come to know the day before, slit like a reptile's as they bore into him.

"...Arthur?" Merlin stammered, taking him in. It was certainly him, he was sure of it...but he looked so, _different_.

"And on the first guess. I'm impressed." The dragon snorted, smoke puffing out of his mouth as he took in his own humanoid form. "It's been...a very long time since I've taken this form."

"So then it's normal?" Merlin asked, relief flooding him. "Well, normal, given your circumstances?"

"I believe so. Did you do this?” Arthur asked, cocking his head a bit as he peered at the warlock. Being able to see his face truly emote was a pleasant change.

Merlin highly doubted it. But he couldn’t deny it completely. “I don’t…think so? I mean, I’ve been known to do magic in my sleep before. Knocking over things, making a plant grow, floating objects…but nothing like _this_.”

"Perhaps...it’s because you’re a Dragonlord.” Arthur suggested. “Maybe you willed me back to humanity in your sleep. Maybe just being around you is enough to do that.”

Merlin shrugged. “Well, being a Dragonlord won’t help me now. My father said he couldn’t control a dragon that had a human heart.”

“As if you could control me at all.” Arthur scoffed.

“Oh, someone’s cocky.” Merlin snarked. "How are those two deer feeling, now that your stomach isn't the size of a house?"

Arthur frowned, thudding a fist against his chest. "I don't think I'll need to eat for a week."

Merlin barked a laugh. "Well, less hunting for me, then. I'm thrilled."

Arthur smacked his lips together, forked tongue flicking out at the cottony feel of it. "Could do with a bit of drink, though."

"Oh, right." Merlin climbed up the side of the nest with some effort, reaching over to dig through his jacket. He grabbed his water skin and tossed it at Arthur lightly. "Help yourself."

Arthur caught it, but gripped perhaps a bit too hard, his sharp claws digging into the leather until it tore. Water spilled out over his fingers and he stared curiously at it.

"Not good!" Merlin yelped, diving for the pouch. The coins beneath the tapestry shifted and he tumbled through the fabric and furs to land directly on top of Arthur, forcing him onto his back with the water dropping right onto his chest. Panicking, he grabbed the water skin and turned it over, pressing it above Arthur's mouth.

The dragon took the hint and opened his mouth, drinking until the skin ran dry. He licked his lips, opening his eyes, which he hadn't realized he had closed. He blinked up at Merlin, whose face was still mere inches from his own. He spoke breathlessly. "Sorry about that. Sharp claws."

Merlin gulped, suddenly feeling like his own throat was bone-dry. “No, it was stupid of me, I should have just…handed it to you.”

“Well, I’m not thirsty anymore.” Arthur spoke as if it were a small victory.

“Right, yes…but you are, ahem—” Merlin shifted slightly, looking down. “Naked.”

“I’m a dragon.” Arthur deadpanned. “We aren’t known for our fashion sense.”

“Well, I’m just saying, we should get you some trousers, at least.” Merlin replied as he coughed uncomfortably, climbing off of him finally.

Arthur sat up and flexed his wings while the sorcerer tried not to stare. “Trousers and more water. Anything else?”

“No…are you going somewhere?” Merlin asked obliviously.

Arthur rolled his reptilian eyes, bringing his wings down once, then twice. Merlin squinted against the rush of air as the dragon lifted off out of the nest to land at the top of the pile of coins and jewels. In the light of the rising sun, he could see the dragon in all his glory, how the scales littered the backs of his thighs and gathered thickly at his ankles, where inhuman talons gripped into the golden floor in place of feet. The wide base of his tail had curved low enough to cover his backside, though it was far from entirely obscured. Merlin blushed as red as Arthur’s scales.

“Yes, you idiot. I’m going to search the cave for what we need. Is there anything else?” Arthur asked, turning to look at him with an annoyed expression. Merlin looked away before he could see anything else.

“Perhaps…uh…some clothes? If I’m to stay here for a while, I’ll need something else to wear.” Merlin plucked at his faded blue shirt self-consciously.

Arthur nodded once. “Very well. You should eat.”

The dragon motioned to the remaining spoils from the night before as he took to the air, his wings beating heavily above him. Merlin shook his head to clear it before climbing out of the nest and heading over to the food.

It took him several attempts to incant the meat into something that was edible, since they hadn’t had nearly enough time in the sun to properly turn to jerky, nor was it even something that rabbit did very well in the first place. He’d finished most of his meal before Arthur returned. Merlin was certain the gods were real, because when he arrived, he dragon was blessedly wearing brown leather trousers, covering him from just under his navel to mid-calf, where the fabric had been torn away to accommodate his talons. In the back, he'd had to accommodate his tail as well by wearing the pants a bit lower-slung than a human would have. Before the sorcerer, he set a large stone pitcher, two golden goblets and a pile of linen fabric.

“You must have quite the collection.” Merlin spoke around a mouthful of rabbit, pointedly keeping his eyes on Arthur’s face. The dragon himself filled the goblets with water from the pitcher before handing one of them to the other man. “Where did you get the water?”

“There’s an alcove where a mountain spring feeds into the underground…but I’m afraid it’s hard to get to without wings.” Arthur replied with a grin before taking a sip from his own goblet. “Perhaps with a large amount of rope and a fair bit of gall, you could do it.”

“I’ll pass, thanks.” Merlin grumbled. “Think I’ll leave the water-fetching to you.”

“Oh, come now. It’d be fun!” Arthur chuckled with a bit too much mirth. “Just imagine you with your gangly limbs flailing all about on a bloody rope! I’d probably laugh for days.”

“You are a prat.” Merlin quipped back, taking another bite of his rabbit. “You’re not giant anymore but you’re still scaly. A scaly prat.”

“Oh, those insults of yours are coming along nicely.” Arthur said sarcastically with a mock-approving nod. “Surely they’ll start to sting within a fortnight.”

“You sure have a lot of comebacks for someone who’s spent his life growling and spitting fire.” Merlin snapped.

“Oh, yes! Much better. Let’s simply overlook the fact that I never actually lost the ability to talk, because it makes for a good quip, eh? Low-blow, there, Dragonlord.” Arthur countered. He was still giving the warlock a toothy grin, clearly enjoying himself.

“Don’t mock my title!” Merlin balked. “I’m the last, you know. After me, poof!” He motioned animatedly with his hands. “No more dragons.”

“How do you figure that?” Arthur drawled, crossing his arms as he looked down at him.

“They say a dragon’s egg can only hatch when a Dragonlord has given it a name.” Merlin replied sagely. “I read it once, in a book. I read a lot, back in Ealdor. Come to think, there wasn’t actually much to do in Ealdor, save for reading and…farming.”

“Brilliant. If I give you a book, would you stop talking?” Arthur asked.

Merlin scoffed. “I won’t be bribed into silence by a dollop-head like—hey! Don’t just fly off!”

Arthur wasn’t listening, soaring into the air toward the far wall of the cavern. Merlin sat there huffily for several minutes before the dragon returned, dropping a pile of dusty, leather-bound tomes in front of him.

"There. These should keep you occupied." Arthur said smugly, rubbing his hands together to get rid of the dust on his hands.

Merlin practically dove for them, fingers sliding over the titles, deftly unlatching and opening them to sample the text inside. “Oh my gods…but these are…this can’t be…”

“I thought the books were supposed to make you _stop_ talking, not prattle on nonsensically.” Arthur quipped.

“These. Are. _Priceless_.” Merlin intoned, staring at the dragon as if willing him to understand. “Remnants of the Old Religion, things like this…they were wiped out in the Purge. It’s impossible to find things like this anymore, even outside of Camelot.”

“Well then, you are welcome.” The dragon replied smugly, giving a grand gesture with both arms before sauntering back toward where he’d made Merlin his nest.

“Hey…where are you going?” The warlock asked, concern edging his tone despite his distraction.

“I told you, I wanted quiet. I need to sleep.” Arthur shot back over his shoulder, not stopping.

“It’s nowhere near sundown!” Merlin protested.

“I had a large meal yesterday.” Arthur countered, like it was any explanation.

“Is that all you do? Sleep and eat?”

“ _Dragon_.” Arthur reminded him, his tail flopping as if in emphasis. “Just keep it down and read your books.”

He waved a hand dismissively before diving into the pile of gold and jewels next to Merlin’s nest, sliding through it like a serpent through water until not even the tip of his tail could be seen. The coins shifted for a moment and eventually stilled, leaving the warlock in utter silence.

\- - -

It was dark by the time Arthur stirred.

The coins and jewels shifted in a small avalanche of gold as he slithered up to the top of the dune and emerged, pushing the treasures away with his wings. He stretched, cat-like, before slinking his way down the pile and to the floor. Once standing, he stretched again, tail swishing as he made his way to Merlin.

Merlin, who was sat before the basin now burning with fire, most likely lit hours before from the necessity of light for reading. He was concentrating hard on a massive text in his lap, hand held before a stone statue in front of him, depicting a large snake wound about a sword.

“ _Bebiede þe arisan cwicem_.” Merlin stared at the statue, huffing in irritation before repeating himself, his tone stronger. “ _Bebiede þe arisan cwicem_!”

“No…you’re saying that wrong.” Arthur told him, rubbing at his jaw sleepily. A small gem dislodged itself from his hair and fell to the stone floor with a clatter, but he ignored it. He knelt, pointing with a talon at the last word of the spell. “It looks like a _‘cem’_ or _‘cum’_ sound, but it really sounds like more of a _‘ken’_ , if that makes sense.”

Merlin huffed petulantly. “I think I can read spells just fine, thank you.”

“I’ve studied more languages than you could count. Just try it.” Arthur snapped.

Merlin sighed before trying again. “ _Bebiede þe arisan cwicum_.”

Sure enough, the statue before him writhed as if it were alive, the stone serpent coiling around its sword before coming to rest again.

Arthur was grinning smugly, but when Merlin beamed up at him, his pride faltered. “Learning a lot, then, are we?”

“Oh, loads. Watch this.” Merlin turned to his fire, holding out a hand. “ _Upastige draca_!”

Up from the flames, a perfect, tiny replica of Arthur’s full dragon form appeared, flying and swirling through the smoke before disappearing into the flames.

“You must be a real charmer at parties.” Arthur teased, taking a seat next to him.

“I learned that one for you.” Merlin mumbled, shoulders hunching as he stared back down at the book in his lap.

Arthur grinned fondly, gently peeling the book from the warlock’s hands and closing it before setting it gingerly aside. “I think you’ve done enough reading today. Any more and you’ll go cross-eyed.”

Merlin whined, but otherwise didn’t protest or try to stop him. “What do you know? You slept all day.”

“I did, and it was glorious, and I will decidedly not go cross-eyed from it.” Arthur smiled toothily.

“You’re a dollop-head.” Merlin grumbled. The glint of something in the light of the fire caught his eye, and he leaned forward, plucking a strand of gold from Arthur’s hair. “And you have a bracelet on that golden dollop-head of yours.”

Something changed in Arthur’s expression as he turned to look at Merlin. Seeing him with that delicate rope of gold sparked something in his eyes that the warlock could actually physically _see_. In one smooth motion, the dragon had taken the bracelet out of his grip and clasped it around the sorcerer’s wrist, fingers working deftly at the clasp despite his long talons.

“Gold suits you.” Arthur said, the words a low rumble in his chest. “You should wear it always.”

Merlin swallowed, eyes darting from the jewelry to Arthur’s eyes, sparkling in the firelight. “Uh…all right…”

That was apparently all the assent Arthur needed, and he nodded decisively. “Now…you must be hungry.”

“…a little, I suppose.” Merlin replied noncommittally.

“Go and find a pot. I will get you what you need to make a stew.” Arthur told him. Without waiting for a response, Arthur took to the skies, jetting out of the mouth of the cave and down the mountainside.

Merlin sighed, piling his books in a neat little stack and setting them aside before going off to find a pot. He couldn’t find anything cast iron and normal, so he settled on the least ornate silver pot he could find and some similar bowls, which he was still sure were inlaid with far too much filigree to be practical. He had managed to set up the pot to hang above the fire basin by the time Arthur returned. He laid out a cloth with an armful of vegetables and…

“Turtles?” Merlin asked incredulously, tapping at one of the shells.

“We can have turtle soup. I was certain you were tired of rabbit, and deer didn’t sound very appealing.” Arthur argued.

“Oh, I wonder why.” Merlin rolled his eyes, but got to work anyway. He and Arthur chatted as he washed and chopped the vegetables (with a ridiculously ornate dagger…what he wouldn’t have given for normal utensils). Arthur shelled the turtles, his talons making quick work of them.

"So, are there any spells you know for magically delicious turtle soup?" Arthur teased as he watched the spoon stir the broth on its own by Merlin's powers as the sorcerer himself chopped the freshly-washed carrots.

"No, but I know one that would give you donkey ears if you don't shut your toothy pie-hole." Merlin countered.

"Testy." Arthur grumbled, but he was smiling.

"Where did you get these, anyway?" Merlin asked as he dropped the cut-up carrots into the broth, moving to the celery next.

"There's an old, abandoned farm down by the river on the other side of the mountain. Most of it is overgrown with weeds, but if you know where to look, there are still some good things growing." Arthur told him.

"Who knew dragons could be foragers." Merlin grinned teasingly as he dropped in the celery.

"My charges needed to eat." Arthur reminded him solemnly.

Merlin's smile fell into a frown. He brought a hand up to grip Arthur's shoulder, the sensation of scales against flesh surprising him for a moment, as if he'd forgotten that the dragon had them.

"I'm sorry." The warlock said, genuinely. "If Nimueh ever returns here, I'll make her pay for what she's done."

“I’m afraid there’s a queue.” Arthur grimaced. "But you're welcome to have your turn with what's left of her once I'm through."

"Yes, well—oy!" Merlin yelped as Arthur snatched the enchanted spoon from the pot to take a taste of the broth. "What happened to not eating for a week?"

"I was curious." Arthur huffed, putting the spoon back. Merlin waved a hand and it started stirring again.

"Well it's not done." Merlin argued. "Why don't you go...find me some spices, or something? Make yourself useful."

"Useful? This is _my_ home. You're the one squatting."

"I'm a guest, and here I am cooking. You're a terrible host." Merlin snarked. "Now go on and get me some herbs. Don't make me use my Dragonlord voice."

"We don't even know if that will work on me! Human heart!" Arthur countered, poking hard at his own chest.

"Well don't make me test it." Merlin replied sagely, squinting his eyes in warning.

Arthur just rolled his eyes and grumbled before taking off out of the cave again. When he returned some time later, it was with a pile of different plants.

“Perfect, thank you.” Merlin grinned, taking a few and pulling off the leaves to drop them right into the pot. For the others, he laid them out and tied them with some twine. “These can sit out in the sun to dry. Preserves the flavor and we can use them later.”

He ladled the finished soup into bowls for the both of them before handing one over to the dragon. Despite that he’d eaten two deer the day prior in his full dragon form, he still managed to eat the entire bowl of soup. Merlin ate his as well, startling himself with a heavy yawn once he’d finished.

“Well, I guess all that reading took more out of me than I thought.” Merlin said, gathering all the dishes together.

“Those can be cleaned tomorrow. Go and get some sleep.” Arthur told him, waving him away from the pots and pans.

“You’re sure?” Merlin asked.

The dragon nodded. “Yes, sure. You go rest. Your books and those dishes will still be here come morning.”

Merlin yawned again, but nodded. “All right. Good night, then…sleep well when you do.”

“Pleasant dreams.” Arthur responded with a small smile.

“You, too.” The warlock called back as he made his way to his nest of furs and silks. He removed his shoes, jacket and neckerchief and climbed in with a little less difficulty than the night before, having gotten used to the slope of the coins and how they shifted under him.

Arthur stayed awake for some time, getting another basin and filling it with water before dropping the plates and pot in to let them soak. He doused the fire, since he didn’t need it himself to see in the dark, his eyes still capable of seeing in low light as they had been in his full dragon form. He kept watch over his cave, his hoard, and his Dragonlord until he, himself needed sleep. He slithered into the dune of coins and jewels just behind Merlin’s nest, his scales still needing the hard coldness of gold and gems to truly feel comfortable.

When he did sleep, it was to pleasant dreams indeed.

\- - -

Merlin awoke not to light but to sound, the next morning. It was a loud, distinctive _snap, crack, bang_ that he couldn’t quite place. He grumbled and rolled over, blinking open his eyes. It was remarkably bright at the entrance of the cave. He’d apparently slept in quite late under the darkness of his silks and furs. He climbed out of his little nest and re-dressed before stumbling toward the noise.

It didn’t take him long to find a small area of the cave that was not covered in treasures but instead surrounded by it. Arthur stood in the middle as if in an arena of gold, Merlin his only spectator. The dragon wielded a sword, the hilt remarkably ornate, as was nearly everything else in his hoard. His opponent was but a pile of wood…perhaps an old bench, curtain rack or shelf…arranged to have a near-human shape with a metal helm upon what was meant to be its head.

Arthur swung the sword with a sort of born grace, combined with learned skill which had never truly faded from muscle-memory. He kept his wings flared out behind him, shifting them when he spun and turned for maximum efficiency. His tail, too, was taught with tension, ready to strike or defend at a moment’s notice.

“Preparing for a battle?” Merlin asked in a light tone. Part of him wondered if the dragon was so eager to fight Nimueh. The dragon didn’t seem at all startled by his presence. Knowing him, he’d probably already smelled or sensed him approaching.

“It’s been a long time since I could hold a sword.” Arthur said, staring at the hilt in his hand with a sort of elated smile as he shook the blade. “I trained in my youth…but for so long, I’ve used my body as a weapon. Fire, talons…I still may have them, but not as I once did.”

“So you are, then. Preparing.” Merlin replied, flatly not a question.

“Improving, really.” Arthur responded, taking another swing at the makeshift dummy. “Reliving.”

He brought a leg up and kicked, sending the wooden thing sprawling and splintering to the ground. Merlin blinked, eyebrows raised as he watched the broken wood clatter about the floor. “Well, you certainly haven’t lost your touch.”

“I need a moving target. This is stale already.” Arthur grumbled. He turned to Merlin suddenly, eyes gleaming as he grinned.

“No. No! Not after what you did to that thing! I’m not sparring with you.” The warlock protested.

“Oh come on, Merlin. I’ll go easy on you! I’ve got all sorts of shields and helmets lying around. Indulge me.” Arthur tried.

Merlin sighed. As much as he wanted to protest, he somehow couldn’t say no to that insufferably handsome face.

An hour later, he was toting a shield and thick metal helm as Arthur wailed on him with his sword for what felt like the hundredth time. When Merlin ducked under the flat of wood, arm going numb at the shocks of metal crashing against it, the dragon just shook his head. His tail whipped out, sweeping at Merlin’s ankles and knocking him off his feet. He hit the ground with a thud and a pained groan, the helmet tumbling from his head.

Arthur held the tip of his sword to the man’s shield, panting through a smile. His blond hair hung low in front of his face, glistening with sweat just like the rest of him. “I believe you’ve had enough for today.”

“Yes, I think so.” Merlin replied breathlessly, dropping the shield as Arthur pulled him to his feet.

“You did well.” Arthur told him, patting the man’s shoulder. “Perhaps stick to fighting with your magic.”

“I wasn’t fighting, I was playing ‘moving target’.” Merlin reminded him.

“And for the practice it gave me, I am grateful.” Arthur grinned.

"Well, I feel disgusting. Where's the nearest river this side of the mountain?" Merlin asked, plucking at his own sweat-soaked shirt with a grimace.

"Half a day's walk. Shorter for me to fly but that doesn't do you any good." Arthur rolled his shoulders, flexing his wings. "I can bring you down to the alcove in the lower caves. It’s faster.”

“Oh what, no ropes and flailing?” Merlin goaded.

“As entertaining a picture as that would make, I’ve decided to be merciful.”

“Truly your benevolence is unmatched.” Merlin said sarcastically.

“Shut up and follow me. Bring fresh clothes.” Arthur scoffed at him, trudging up the nearest dune of gold and jewels to wait for him.

Walking through the cavern was…tedious. Gold and jewels shifted under their feet with every step, and although Arthur seemed to have no issue keeping his footing with the grip of his talons, Merlin was tumbling and rolling his ankles near constantly. Arthur just glanced over every so often and chuckled, which made Merlin want to give him those donkey ears he’d threatened him with earlier.

Still, with some difficulty, they managed to make their way to the back eastern corner of the cave. The treasures thinned out to nearly nothing, only small coins and jewels scattered randomly about the floor every so many feet, just before the ground simply…opened up. A gaping chasm extended from where they stood back to the wall, black as night and who knew how deep. It was by far large enough to have accommodated Arthur’s full dragon form, but Merlin still gave him a dubious glance.

“You’ve been down there?”

“Yes, it’s perfectly safe.” He took off from the ground, wings flapping to keep him hovering over Merlin. “Arms up.”

The warlock hesitated for just a moment before complying, tucking his change of clothes into his belt and raising his arms.

“Hold fast.” Arthur warned, gripping the man’s wrists. His talons coiled around the flesh, but never grazed him. Merlin turned his hands to grip the dragon’s own wrists, holding tightly as he beat his wings and they both lifted from the ground together this time.

They glided down the chasm as a speed which felt quite slow and comfortable to Merlin, but it was hard to tell with the lack of light disorienting him. He had no earthly idea how long they’d been descending when he suddenly felt a jolt of his boot-clad foot touching upon ground. He actually gave a startled hiss at the suddenness of it, and Arthur snorted.

“Easy, there.” The dragon soothed, setting him down gently.

Merlin wobbled slightly when the other man released him, and he knelt, feeling the ground beneath him. Damp, shifting silt on a bed of solid rock. “Sand?”

“Think of it like an underground lakeshore.” Arthur told him.

“I can’t see a bloody thing down here.” Merlin huffed as he stood, already disoriented.

“Oh, right. Human eyes.” Arthur said, turning around until he was facing the wall and blowing out a strong breath. There was no fire, but plenty of force. Wherever the air touched, the wall glowed in spotty patches of blue.

Merlin stumbled back slightly, watching as the dragon was cast in the beautiful azure light. “What is that?”

Arthur flapped his wings and the entire wall behind him lit up with a hazy blue glow. “They’re glowworms. Harmless; they just glow as a warning to those who would try to eat them. They’re all over the caves down here.”

“So they respond to a simple touch of air?” At Arthur’s nod, Merlin grinned mischievously, arms outstretched. “ _Færblæd wawe_!”

A strong gust of wind flew through the space, illuminating the creatures on the walls in a sudden wave of light until the entire cavern was awash in the blue glow. Stalactites hung in varying lengths above them, twisted or bauble-shaped in their own unique flair. Stalagmites rose only along the outer edges of the lake before them, breaking away into sand and rock the closer to the water they became. The water itself was still and sparkling in the blue light. The cavern was, in fact, massive…he could picture Arthur even in all his full dragon glory sliding under through the lake to wet all his scales, spreading his wings under the icy water.

“Glorious. I’ve never seen them all lit at once.” Arthur said in a tone not unlike awe as he looked around.

“It’s beautiful.” Merlin replied breathlessly, taking in the vastness of the space even as every corner glowed, light reflecting in the still waters. “And it’s safe to swim?”

“There’s nothing here but us and the worms.” Arthur assured, grinning before diving into the water with hardly a splash, wings tucked flat against his back and tail straight as an arrow behind him. He rocketed back out of the water a moment later, wings flaring and raining water down on Merlin.

“Hey! Watch it!” Merlin grumbled, still shedding his jacket and toeing out of his boots.

Arthur seemed unapologetic, laughing as he shook his wings out again. “Come on, then…”

“I’m working on it.” Merlin huffed, stripping down to just his knickers before sliding into the water. It was chilly, but not as cold as he had been expecting. He washed his clothes and laid them on some dry rocks before wading further into the water to wash himself. He noticed the water was still again, the cave eerily silent. “Arthur?”

Another moment of dead silence before the water in front of him burst up, a massive splash coming down upon him. He sputtered and wiped the hair from his face, glowering even as Arthur was chuckling heartily, clutching his stomach.

“Oh, that was hilarious.” The dragon managed in between fits of laughter.

“Yeah, yeah, very funny you scaly prat.” The warlock grumbled. His hair was an absolute mess now, but at least it was out of his eyes. “First you use me for target practice with a sword, and now it’s trying to drown me. What next?”

“I’m not trying to drown you! And besides, all that practice will get you fighting-fit. Although I must say, Merlin…I thought you’d be lankier under those ratty linens. How does a sorcerer go about getting so lean?” Arthur drawled, teeth showing as he grinned, looking the other man up and down.

“Farm work.” The dark-haired man quipped, ducking lower under the water to scrub at his own pale skin. Not that it had done anything for his complexion. “Couldn’t exactly use magic to plow fields. It’d be a bit suspicious.”

“So no one knew, back in your home?” Arthur asked, his tone void of jest, now.

“Just a few. My mother and father, a few of the village elders, and my best mate, Will.” Merlin explained as he rubbed over his sore arm.

Arthur hadn’t missed the drop in the warlock’s tone at the last name, how it had suddenly gone so melancholy...even moreso than at the mention of his parents. “Sounds like you miss him.”

Merlin huffed, splashing at the dragon with a swat of his hand. “He was my friend, you clotpole. Of course I missed him. He was, you know…always there for me growing up. Didn’t you ever—”

The warlock’s expression turned horrified at Arthur’s frown. “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“No, it’s all right. I did, actually.” Arthur told him. “Morgana. She was my cousin, a ward of my father. She came to live with us when we were both very young. Most of the time, she was kept away from me, just like everyone else. But she would sneak away to see me sometimes, tell me stories about the knights. She was always kind to me. But when they locked me down in the caves, I never saw her again.”

Merlin’s expression was pained. “I’m so sorry, Arthur.”

“No, it’s fine.” Arthur waved him off. “What of Will, then? If you have friends back in your home, you might think of returning.”

Merlin was the one frowning now as he shook his head. “No…Will was, ah…well, he was killed some months ago, when bandits raided the village. I was…I was too scared to use my magic; afraid someone would find out who would have me burned at the pyre. It got him killed. I did use my magic, I had to…but he took the blame with his dying breath so nothing would happen to me.”

Arthur gave him a sympathetic look, closing the distance between them to rest a hand on his shoulder. “He sounds like a true friend. You were lucky to have him, but I’m sure he was just as lucky to have you.”

“Don’t see how.” Merlin mumbled, refusing to meet the dragon’s eyes.

“You threw yourself between me and the most powerful sorceress in the five kingdoms when I was a dragon, not even a man. You stay with me, because you feel it is your duty as a Dragonlord…but you never act as if it is a burden.” Arthur’s hand moved to Merlin’s chin, making the warlock look at him. “I have no doubt that you are a good man, and a great friend.”

“When I saw you, I knew. I felt it.” Merlin told him, words heavy with meaning as his eyes drifted down again. “It felt like…destiny.”

“Magic is mysterious and powerful, as they say.” Arthur replied softly. “I would be lying if I said I was not drawn to you.”

Merlin’s eyes bolted back up to Arthur’s, locking him in an intense gaze. “You…?”

“Much of what I feel is almost instinctive…feral…” Arthur elaborated, his free hand finding Merlin’s wrist. He stroked his thumb along the delicate gold bracelet there, hanging loose and wet against his palm. “But it is a need to protect and to keep you.”

“Yes…” Merlin said breathlessly. He wasn’t sure if it was meant to be relief or consent, but that was all that would come out. He pressed himself flush against Arthur’s chest, the hardness of his scales contrasting starkly with the smoothness of his flesh.

The dragon himself reacted instantly; that same look came over his eyes as when he had placed the bracelet on Merlin’s wrist. His arms and tail both wrapped possessively around the warlock, dragging him into a kiss as their lips met.

To Arthur, Merlin was like electricity and solid gold, his power almost a physical thing he could feel when he just kissed him and _tasted_ , letting the pretense of a mortal coil fall away. Kissing him, he knew how much of an illusion it was. His mouth felt like eternity, and he could feel him for what he really was. Immortality, power, magic incarnate. Just as he wanted to keep him, he now wanted to bow at his feet, pledge himself to all that he was and likely did not even know. A low rumble settled in his chest, a hum of satisfaction and a claim.

Merlin tasted smoke and fire…the heat of Arthur’s mouth almost startling. His tongue, long and forked, was a strange sensation against his own, but he welcomed it, hands scrabbling to grip anywhere they could reach. That rumble low in Arthur’s chest sent a wave of heat through the warlock and he groaned, desperate and wanting. 

Arthur hauled Merlin against him, grip tight on his arse with one clawed hand while the other cradled the back of Merlin’s skull. He nearly shredded Merlin’s smallclothes just to get them off him, but the moment they were off, the warlock all but jumped into his arms, wrapping his legs around the dragon’s waist and hooking his ankles at the small of his back. Arthur practically snarled, edging his trousers down with his tail, only to wrap it right back around Merlin’s waist when they were down past his thighs.

He let the warlock drop only slightly, his hips sliding down until he could feel Merlin’s erect cock against his own. He hissed at the feel of it, slick and warm even under the crystal-clear water. The hand that was in Merlin’s hair moved between them, but the moment he held them both together, the sorcerer hissed, hands tightening on the dragon’s shoulders.

“Scales.” Merlin reminded him wrapping one arm around the dragon’s neck while the other reached down between them and swatted Arthur’s away, curling around both of their cocks. He couldn’t help but glance down at the strange feel of Arthur in his hand. The dragon’s cock was a bit unlike his own…slender and much more curved than Merlin’s, with bumps and ridges along its shaft. But it was the head which was most different; flared and bulbous on either side with a near-pointed tip. It was not dissimilar to those beasts which lurked the waters of the dank swamps of Albion…but truly just like that of a full-blooded dragon’s, save for its size, which was obviously much less substantial in his humanoid form.

Merlin, still, was fascinated, running his thumb over that unique head as he pumped them together. Arthur’s hips jerked and they rut against one another, lower halves still under the water as it lapped around them, still everywhere else but where they moved within it.

“M-Merlin…” Arthur murmured into the flesh of the warlock’s neck, tongue flicking out to taste him there. His arms and tail held fast to him, his strong legs taking whatever weight of theirs the water did not bear the burden of.

The dragon’s touch was like fire…his entire body a furnace of heat enveloping Merlin’s senses. Every part of him burned, from his cock to his hands to his tongue, and the sorcerer basked in it like the light of the sun. His own tongue sought out those parts of him where human met dragon…he licked gingerly along his collarbone where flesh met scales, earning a shiver from him. Surely the parts where his two natures met were the most sensitive, and Merlin exploited it with deft fingers and a wicked tongue.

The sorcerer’s breath hitched harder, after a time, and his head fell back as he let out a long and low moan. Arthur lathed his tongue over the man’s prominent Adam’s apple, licking into the dip of his collarbone and up along the curve of his throat. Merlin only clutched him harder, pumped them faster, and when Arthur’s teeth latched gently down on the tender flesh where shoulder met neck, the tip of his tail sliding deftly along the cleft of his arse in a perfect tease, the warlock shivered and came, release lost to the crystal waters.

Arthur whispered encouragements and pleasure-drunk compliments into Merlin’s ear as the warlock continued to strip his cock, releasing his own in favor of servicing his dragon. The fleshy ridges along the shaft felt strange on his palm, but it was a familiar feeling when the dragon tensed and clutched him tighter. A clever twist of his gold-clad wrist had Arthur unravelling under his touch, his release so hot and thick he could feel it even in the water, more volume by far than what the human had spent just seconds before. Merlin did not stop, kept gently stroking his dragon through until his quaking ceased and his cock could spend no more. The dragon took several moments to will himself to move, wading to the bank of the alcove to lay Merlin down, not releasing him until he was safely nestled in the sand. He rolled off next to him, tail curling possessively around the warlock’s leg, as if it were impossible to not be holding some part of him.

They lay on the underground lakeshore, cool sand and rock beneath them. Looking up, to Merlin, was like staring at the night sky when all the torches in his village had been doused; a canvas of glowing light like stars above them. They panted in time until their breaths evened out, the warlock turning to the dragon with so many things unspoken between them.

“That was…” Merlin could think of many words to describe what had just happened. None of them seemed adequate.

“Hmm.” Arthur hummed like an agreement, turning to face his Dragonlord. His gaze was like a magnetic pull, and he found himself kissing Merlin again, languid and unhurried.

By the time they pulled apart again, they were panting for air once more. “Yeah. Exactly.”

Arthur growled low in his throat, climbing over Merlin until the man was on his back again. He licked along his throat, accompanied with gently nips and soft kisses. “I can’t explain it…how drawn I am to you. I want to keep you…drape you in gold…lay you down and write homages upon your skin with my tongue…”

“Gods, Arthur…” Merlin couldn’t deny it, either; the connection he felt to this man who held the form of a dragon. There was, of course, the natural pull he felt having the soul of a Dragonlord which compelled him to protect Arthur at all costs. But even so, beyond that, he felt a complete and utter devotion to the _man_ , not the dragon…as if his magic was meant for him and him alone.

After years of living in obscurity in a tiny village away from the world, he finally felt as though he had a purpose. A destiny.

Even if he couldn’t explain it, it felt completely and utterly _right_.

After a long while spent resting on the lakeshore, long after the glowworms had faded in their solace, Arthur took flight and carried Merlin to his nest. Setting him gently among the furs, he laid beside him, drying clothes and even fresh clothes brought along but forgotten as they reveled in the feel of bare flesh on bare flesh and scales.

“In all of Camelot, there could have been no greater treasure than you, my Dragonlord.” Arthur murmured, clawed fingers tracing gentle patterns over the warlock’s stomach.

“You could go back, you know. To Camelot.” Merlin said gently. “You’re mostly human now. You could—”

Arthur pressed his thumb to the sorcerer’s bottom lip, silencing him. He shook his head, resigned but somehow not melancholy. “I accepted long ago that my father was incapable of seeing me as his son and heir. Even when I was like this…he couldn’t look at me.”

Merlin turned his head until Arthur’s finger slipped away and he could speak freely. “People change, Arthur. They change and they grow. Maybe your father—”

“He sent you to me as a sacrifice, Merlin. He sent all those people thinking they were going to their deaths. Even if Nimueh was lying about him wanting me dead, he certainly doesn’t think highly of me. I’m a nuisance.” Arthur replied, bitterness edging into his tone even as he tried so desperately to keep it out. It made Merlin’s heart ache.

“He sent for my father believing that a Dragonlord could calm you. I don’t think he wants you dead.” The warlock tried softly. “Some part of Üther still loves you, Arthur. I truly believe that.”

Arthur flinched, mouth drawn into a grave line. He could only see the last memory he had of his father; utter rejection, a declaration that the dragon before him was no longer his son before he turned his back on him forever. He shook his head, resolute.

“I will not return to Camelot. And I’d rather not speak of it again.”

Merlin sighed, frowning and looking down at where their hands were intertwined over his stomach…one pale and bony, the other shining with golden talons and red scales. Even if he wasn’t human, Arthur was beautiful. Merlin couldn’t see how anyone could reject or hate him.

After a moment of hesitation, Arthur spoke again, eyes having never left Merlin’s face. “Is it that…do you want to return?”

Merlin shook his head. “No. I’m happy to remain here with you. But I do feel your destiny calling you, Arthur. And that destiny lies in Camelot.”

“And what of your own destiny?” The dragon deflected, though his tone was light, not at all accusing.

“I’m not a Seer. But I know what I feel…and what I feel is that my destiny is tied to yours.” Merlin responded, glancing over his shoulder at him. “Be it as a Dragonlord, as a sorcerer…my place is by your side.”

“And if I feel as though I can never return? If I believe that my place is here, away from Camelot?”

“Then so is mine.” Merlin replied easily, thumb stroking over the hard ridges along the back of Arthur’s hand.

The dragon nodded, dropping a kiss upon the warlock’s temple. “Then I shall have you, and that is all I will require.”

Merlin didn’t think that fate would be so kind as to leave them to their comfortable isolation, but he drifted off to pleasant thoughts of a peaceful life with his dragon, his prince…his _king_ , as his dreams supplied…and the kingdom which destiny made him feel as if they were meant to build together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while; the transition from bonding, bantering cuties to filthy but fluffy smut was remarkably difficult and I just hope it came out okay. As a side-note, I know that glowworms don’t need stimulation to glow generally but they do in Albion! And, for those curious, Arthur’s dragon….er, anatomy…is based on a crocodile’s, with some extra added ridges.


End file.
